H
Hed bust
Guest
Saw this in Dallas Morning News over weekend
He tells me they "don't want media relations people in the Big 12 offices"
What a shame they've evolved to that
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Perpetually contrite SWC-Big 12 mainstay Bo Carter movin' on
By Kevin Sherrington
Dallas Morning News (Sunday Brunch, July 30, 2006)
After 20 years with the Southwest Conference and Big 12, Bo Carter professes no regrets in abandoning his latest post as historian.
And if you know Bo, the sentiment might surprise you.
He's been sorry about everything else.
The most deferential man ever to work in the SWC once apologized to a woman after she ran into his parked car at a party ... concluded a 4 a.m. call from a sports writer with, "Thanks for calling. Call any time." ... sends thank-you notes for thank-you notes ... watched his team's game-winning home run, turned to an opposing athletic official and apologized for the wind.
He's meant every sorry word, too. Former Auburn AD David Housel, himself a legend in the business, once called Bo "the most sincere person I've ever known."
If not the most dynamic, as I wrote in 1989:
"Slight of build and stoop-shouldered, he walks as if his feet hurt. He frequently removes his wire-rimmed glasses for cleaning, forcing him to squint considerably. He wears Hush Puppies and a smile that says, 'Don't hit me.'
"His form of conversation is one of the most mimicked in SWC circles. The official Bo dialect is a series of darting, random thoughts connected loosely by a string of apologies, thanks, snickers and an occasional 'Just kidding,' all delivered in a secretive, even conspiratorial tone of voice."
Except for the Hush Puppies, he's no different at 54. Forever the Southern gentleman.
"I have not had a bad day at work," he says.
Elected to the College Sports Information Directors of America Hall of Fame last year, he wants to stay in the business. If there's any justice, he will. He's been lauded by everyone who's worked with him, and for reasons you might not expect.
Glen Stone, formerly TCU's sports information director, once told about a knock on the door of a press box restroom.
"Mr. Stone?"
"Yeah, Bo?"
"Is everything OK?"
"Uh, sure, Bo."
"You know," Stone said later, "that's the only time anyone has ever asked me that question in that situation."
Bo's thoughtful. Attended Vanderbilt on an academic scholarship. Graduated cum laude in classical studies despite working part-time in the sports information office and at the Nashville Tennessean.
Too nice to be a sports writer. Luckily he found his calling and match. Dr. Joanne Pryor-Carter counsels terminally ill patients and was recently elected vice president of the Texas-New Mexico Hospice Organization.
Joanne once told me she didn't find her job depressing because "the dying have so much to teach us about living. You never give up hope."
And if that doesn't define her, then perhaps this story does: Joanne and Bo are at a party when she notices the host's son thrashing in the deep end of the pool. Next thing you know, Joanne jumps in and hauls him out.
As heroine and child stand shivering and soaked among shocked party-goers, it figures how Bo reacts.
Apologizes for the dripping.
Preemptive note: No, Bo. Thank you.
E-mail [email protected]
He tells me they "don't want media relations people in the Big 12 offices"
What a shame they've evolved to that
-------------------------
Perpetually contrite SWC-Big 12 mainstay Bo Carter movin' on
By Kevin Sherrington
Dallas Morning News (Sunday Brunch, July 30, 2006)
After 20 years with the Southwest Conference and Big 12, Bo Carter professes no regrets in abandoning his latest post as historian.
And if you know Bo, the sentiment might surprise you.
He's been sorry about everything else.
The most deferential man ever to work in the SWC once apologized to a woman after she ran into his parked car at a party ... concluded a 4 a.m. call from a sports writer with, "Thanks for calling. Call any time." ... sends thank-you notes for thank-you notes ... watched his team's game-winning home run, turned to an opposing athletic official and apologized for the wind.
He's meant every sorry word, too. Former Auburn AD David Housel, himself a legend in the business, once called Bo "the most sincere person I've ever known."
If not the most dynamic, as I wrote in 1989:
"Slight of build and stoop-shouldered, he walks as if his feet hurt. He frequently removes his wire-rimmed glasses for cleaning, forcing him to squint considerably. He wears Hush Puppies and a smile that says, 'Don't hit me.'
"His form of conversation is one of the most mimicked in SWC circles. The official Bo dialect is a series of darting, random thoughts connected loosely by a string of apologies, thanks, snickers and an occasional 'Just kidding,' all delivered in a secretive, even conspiratorial tone of voice."
Except for the Hush Puppies, he's no different at 54. Forever the Southern gentleman.
"I have not had a bad day at work," he says.
Elected to the College Sports Information Directors of America Hall of Fame last year, he wants to stay in the business. If there's any justice, he will. He's been lauded by everyone who's worked with him, and for reasons you might not expect.
Glen Stone, formerly TCU's sports information director, once told about a knock on the door of a press box restroom.
"Mr. Stone?"
"Yeah, Bo?"
"Is everything OK?"
"Uh, sure, Bo."
"You know," Stone said later, "that's the only time anyone has ever asked me that question in that situation."
Bo's thoughtful. Attended Vanderbilt on an academic scholarship. Graduated cum laude in classical studies despite working part-time in the sports information office and at the Nashville Tennessean.
Too nice to be a sports writer. Luckily he found his calling and match. Dr. Joanne Pryor-Carter counsels terminally ill patients and was recently elected vice president of the Texas-New Mexico Hospice Organization.
Joanne once told me she didn't find her job depressing because "the dying have so much to teach us about living. You never give up hope."
And if that doesn't define her, then perhaps this story does: Joanne and Bo are at a party when she notices the host's son thrashing in the deep end of the pool. Next thing you know, Joanne jumps in and hauls him out.
As heroine and child stand shivering and soaked among shocked party-goers, it figures how Bo reacts.
Apologizes for the dripping.
Preemptive note: No, Bo. Thank you.
E-mail [email protected]